3 AM
by sunnysfunny
Summary: Bobby is awoken from a deep sleep by his roommate. Typically when someone wakes you up at an early hour it's for something important, but that is not the case here. One Shot


This was written due to a request from the sweet16 Writer. She didn't give me much to work with, but I like a challenge. Enjoy!

**3 A.M.**

"Drake?"

No response.

"Bobby?"

"Ye-ah?" he answered, half asleep.

"I'm hungry."

"John," Bobby rubbed his eyes to make the blur of digits on the clock come together to form actual numbers, "it's three in the morning."

The firebug sighed, "I know."

"I was sleeping", he replied, pointedly. "If I woke you up at this hour… I wouldn't have eye brows the next day." Bobby turned over, giving his back to his roommate.

"Don't be silly," scoffed John, "you wouldn't have eye brows and hair." A quiet snore came from the other side of the room. The firestarter frowned at Bobby's lack of concern. He put on a white t-shirt and then lazily threw a sock at his roommate like a grenade. "Get up and come with me so I can satisfy my stomach before it devours itself." He tossed over another sock as the first failed to make an impact. The snoring ceased and Bobby rolled onto his back.

"Now you've awoken me twice in one morning, Dyce," he griped.

"I don't think you heard me before so I'll say it again." He sat up and swung his legs over the bed. "I have to satisfy my stomach before it devours itself." John grabbed two—should-be-in-the-laundry-basket—white socks off the floor and combined them into one. After the sock grenade bounced off the left side of Bobby's head, he stood and declared, "I choose you, Picachu."

Bobby glared at John as he passed the foot of his bed and then he shifted to a seated position. His brows narrowed as he scanned his personal space perimeter, "Why does my bed look like a laundry basket?"

Waiting by the door, John grinned**.**

Bobby put on dark blue mesh shorts over his boxers and threw on a Boston Brewer jersey. He followed the pyromaniac down the hall. Halfway, Bobby stopped and pushed a certain spot on the wall. John eventually turned around when he noticed he was talking to himself. "What are you doing, Drake?"

"The damn thing isn't opening."

"Dude, that elevator is broken."

"Oh," He rubbed his weary face, "I forgot."

John smiled, "You need coffee. Stat."

He rested his forehead on the wall and shut his eyes. "I need to go back to sleep," he moaned.

"I'll make it for you…" For the first time since disturbing his roommates sleep, John saw the corner of Bobby's lips quirk upwards.

"You do make good coffee."

"We're almost half way there. Let's go. My stomach is angry now."

Once again, Bobby trailed behind John. He was looking down at his feet, watching them glide and fall. When he finally lifted his gaze, he was just a mere few steps away from the stairs. John was waiting and appeared to be annoyed. The pyromaniac glanced at his invisible watch and said, "I was watching you and I thought someone was manipulating time, slowing it down."

Bobby shrugged and then started to laugh at himself. He honestly thought he was walking at a normal pace.

John cocked his head to the side and frowned. "What?"

Bobby waved him off dismissively.

John glared at him momentarily and then trudged down the stairs. At the top, Bobby looked down at what seemed to be an endless staircase. He wasn't in the mood to use that much physical energy and he didn't want his polar opposite to remark at his sluggishness, so he decided to improvise. He held both of his arms out in front of him. Ice plowed out at a rapid pace and in less than thirty seconds, the left side of the staircase was covered in frost. He grinned at his cleverness before stepping onto the ramp. Bobby slid past John with a bright white smile. "See you at the bottom, Py."

Naturally, John's eyes narrowed at the sight: _Robert Drake using his powers gratuitously?_ The firebug never thought he'd see the day. He smirked and picked up the pace to catch up. Once at the bottom, he saw Bobby's cocky grin. He was waiting leisurely while leaning on the wall using his upper back.

Blue eyes stared right into brown. "Tick-tock."

"Oh, now you're in a hurry," he sneered lightly. "But I have to say, that can be pretty useful," John looked thoughtful and then his lips formed into a devilish smirk, "and I have so many ideas swimming in my head right now... they are going to blow your mind. However," he paused, pointing both index fingers at his abdomen, "first things first." His stomach gurgled and grumbled. "I thought you'd agree."

Bobby wasn't sure if that was aimed at him or the persistent stomach of John Allerdyce. He assumed the latter. Regardless, he wasn't going to ask such a question.

* * *

><p>"Three sugars and milk?"<p>

Bobby yawned. "That's correct," he replied as he tapped the tabletop. There was no possible way to ignore the luscious aroma. He couldn't wait to indulge.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

John sprinkled something into the mug to complete the drink, turned, and handed Bobby the coffee. He took a whiff before lifting the mug and then blew the liquid, causing tiny ripples. Bobby lifted the mug higher and then tipped it slightly when the rim reached his lips. "Mmm."

Pleased with the reaction, John turned back to the refrigerator. He scanned the interior to plan out his meal. "Hamburger. Reasonably quick and satisfying. I was originally thinking of lobster but that would be ridiculous."

"Why don't you have cereal or waffles, you know, something light like a normal person?"

John turned around and glared at him.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. "

"Cereal won't satisfy this." The pyromaniac patted his flat abdomen.

Bobby rested his cheek on his loosely bent fingers that were propped on the table by his elbow. "You make it sound like it's a monster."

"It is!" he exclaimed. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Bobby rolled his eyes and decided not to ruin hi_s _mood. "You make a killer cup of coffee," he said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, just don't tell anyone. I don't want to be woken up every morning."

Bobby snorted and thought _'Oh, like I was? Today. At three. And there isn't even a good reason why I'm up in the first place! Nothing is on fire. The mansion hasn't been infiltrated. And I'll say it again... nothing is on fire!' _He pushed those thoughts aside because the coffee alone was worth it. Then he thought of something else, _'Even if I did tell… no one would be brave enough to interrupt the sleep of a known hot-head. However—and that is one really big 'however'—there is one person who would do it, and yet, they wouldn't ask for anything in return, which is like a 'get out of jail free card', a valuable playing card that I now have possession of.'_ Fortunately, John's back was turned; Bobby wasn't a poker face kind of guy and he was now grinning ear to ear with no white lie in place if interrogated about it by his persistent roommate.

Twenty-five minutes later, John's early morning meal was almost ready to be consumed. He flicked his Zippo open and lightly toasted the bun according to his mental commands. He carefully sat the top of the bun on the mound of lettuce that was resting on top of the burger. The table was less than a yard away. Bobby watched as John's face went from excited to _holy crap _in a matter of seconds. As John turned, he lost his grip on the plate. The burger and all of the compliments fell to the polished marble tiles. To the naked eye the floor appeared to be squeaky-clean but the kitchen is accurately labeled as a high traffic zone. Bobby choked back laughter and tried very hard not to smile. However, a few faint snorts escaped. John ignored the stupid noises coming from Bobby as he looked at the mess in astonishment. He stood frozen, gaping at the sight; until his stomach started to _talk. _He blinked a few times, frowned, left the mess where it was, and reluctantly opened the freezer. He pushed a box of waffles over to the side and grumbled at the mockery. He shoved a bag of broccoli, peas, and other crap he hated out of the way. In the back of the freezer he found two packages of pepperoni pizza rolls. John grabbed both boxes, closed the freezer with his shoulder, tore open the containers and poured all of the contents onto a pan. He slid the pan into the toaster, closed the door, set the dial on the appropriate option and punched 1 0 using the keypad. Yes, it would've been quicker to nuke them, but the pizza rolls would come out crunchier this way. Ten minutes, plus the two you had to wait after they finished cooking felt like hours to John.

Eventually the bell chimed and the _long_ wait was over. Bobby blinked and the full plate that contained two boxes worth of pizza rolls was empty. Wait. Empty? He blinked a few times and looked at John incredulously. The pyromaniac was in the middle of finishing up the last of what was left in the can of Coke. "Buuuurrrrrrpppp." John looked at the blonde and asked, "What are you staring at?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

He shrugged. "I told you over and over I was hungry..."

"I know... but... I didn't think _that_ was humanly possible."

"You're looking at a guy with many talents."

Bobby quirked a brow and countered, "Oh yeah? Do you have a talent for cleaning up without using any tools?"

"No, but I can make it a fast clean up with one _tool_." John said, eying the blonde while emphasizing the last word.

The coffee started to frost over as Bobby narrowed his eyes at the pyromaniac.

John smiled faintly, "It depresses me to see that a cow died for nothi-"

"Funny. You don't seem depressed."

He sighed irritably, "Will you please just help me and turn this mess into a solid one?"

After a moment of consideration, a stream of ice came from under the table. John watched as frozen water molecules knitted together around his fallen meal. He picked it up and said with a smirk, "Now that's what I call art."

"Did I forget something?" Bobby asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," he looked into the mug and sat it down, "I just have that feeling that I forgot something."

John put the "art work" into a black garbage bag, tied the yellow ties, popped open the drop drawer and let go, letting the bag slide down into darkness, never to be seen again. The drawer closed automatically. "Are you ready for those 'ideas' I brought up earlier?"

"Why do you ask me like I have a choice?"

John laughed, "You're right. Follow me outside."

* * *

><p>Although it was still dark outside, the early birds were up and chattering away. The sky was mostly clear except for a few passing cumulus clouds. The two boys stood several feet away from each other in the middle of the lawn behind the fountain. Every night the entire lawn is lit up by security lights. Thirty feet in front of both of them were targets made of ice.<p>

The pyromaniac quirked an eyebrow, "Is that..."

"Yeah, I hate that optimistic red phony."

"I thought everyone loved Elmo."

Bobby shot an ice spear at the target's head. "Not I."

John looked at Elmo's decapitated head and then at his roommate; both of his hands were at his sides in fists.

"I bet that tickled, jerk!" spat Bobby.

John pinched the bridge of his nose, closed is eyes, lowered his head and smiled. Unlike Bobby, he was successful in holding back laughter. John also thought of a joke_—_a good one too_—_but he didn't tell it because the human freezer adjacent to him was clearly upset about something. It wasn't going to be a lost joke; he'd tell it... just at a later time. He looked over once again and the blonde's hands were open and relaxed. John flicked the cap of his Zippo and started the flame. "Ready?"

Bobby nodded once.

"Go!"

Ice chips in all sizes flew in every direction. Both mutants were solely concentrating on their respective targets. Bobby used different methods on each target; while John hit each one in a certain order: head, chest/body, and then legs.

When Bobby was finished he cracked his knuckles and then both sides of his neck. He walked over to John, closing the gap between the two of them. "I'm surprised we haven't done something like this sooner. Ready for another ro-" Bobby paused, his mouth hung open. "Crap," he muttered and ran to the mansion.

* * *

><p>Bobby jumped over the three steps that led to the patio and swung the door open, his sneakers squeaked as he cut the corner. He continued down the narrow hall, cut another corner and stopped short once he had view of the staircase.<p>

A low throaty growl came from the person at the bottom.

Immediately Bobby shut his eyes tight. In hopes of dreaming, he mentally counted to three and re-opened them. He gasped, surprised to be looking into Logan's brown eyes. The guy with adamantium on his entire skeleton had to lift himself off the floor and walk thirteen feet. Was it possible for someone like that to be quick and quiet like a cat? "I... I'm..."

"What the hell, Bobby? I could've br-"

John's presence interrupted the confrontation. He instantly put the pieces together, which made him smile. Being a spectator instead of the situation was a nice change for a repeat troublemaker.

"I blame this on lack of sleep." He turned his back on Logan to glare at the source of the problem.

The boy just shrugged and looked at both of them before saying simply, "Fire is my element, not ice."

Bobby wanted to grab the pyromaniac's shirt and wipe that smug smirk off his face, but The Wolverine was the last person you should turn your back on. He faced Logan once again and thought about what he was going to say. 'Sorry' was expected and he started to say that in the beginning, but was cut off, so he decided to go a different route. In an even, casual voice, he said, "Let's turn that growl into laughter. Logan, would you like to use the slide again? I'll waive the fee."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Now that you've read, please review. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as I have writing it. I didn't bash Bobby like I usually do because it wasn't right for the story. I've gotten some flames in the past because of it, but it's something that shouldn't be taken personally no matter how deeply we care for beloved characters. I would assume all writers (fanfiction, published) do what they feel is right for their stories.

Reminder: I post the progress with my stories on my profile. I started that, so you'll know they are still being worked on and haven't been forgotten. I'm sure writing this unexpected one-shot got me back into the swing of things. If you're waiting on an update to a particular story, let me know which one in your review... it might just make me work on it faster.

~ C4H


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